


Foundations

by runicmagitek



Series: Random-Access Memories [1]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Royce Bracket drabble prompts involving his history throughout Cloudbank and the nuances of his personality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

Other men were fascinated with power and the constant competition that came with it. Others were fond of the pursuit of wealth, preferring to shower themselves in material objects than anything else. There were plenty who sought out the sins of the flesh, chasing men and women alike for a taste of something only addicts could dream of. But Royce was seduced only by the string of numbers clustering together in a formula and the lines of a blueprint outlining a new building - a new beginning - for the absolute intrigued him; unlike the other venues presented, the equations never lied.


	2. Accusation

The accusation of plagiarism from his peer sent Royce calmly marching to the front of the classroom. With his memory stick plugged in, he displayed the designs in questions.

“See these?” Royce motioned to the amateur doodles. “These would be passable for an entry level class required for university entrance. Now, for these-” He maximized new charts built phenomenally off of the foundation of the previous. “-I found your flaws and made them better. Made them my _own_.”

Royce never twitched his straight lips while eyeing his peer.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what you’re doing,” he stated.


	3. Restless

The dim glow of the monitor illuminated his weary face. Bright eyes lined with dark circles fixated on the formulas, teasing him to be solved. And he _tried_. Five hours were spent mulling over the complexities which anchored a new building, one easily toppled by a slight breeze. But Royce was _determined_ to defy physics if it meant bestowing Cloudbank with art. His cigarette twitched between tight lips as he inhaled sharply and exhaled curls of smoke from his nostrils. Design be damned, he would slave over the minor details well into the morning - he _was_ going to solve it.


	4. Snowflake

Every spectacle falling from the winter sky was a unique speck; an intricate structure of reflected patterns multiplied and folded into itself. Royce dared to catch one as a child to further inspect the snowflakes. How was it nature perfected the art of diversity? Billions of designs created, only to melt out of existence. No one else within Cloudbank cared to fuse over the details hidden in the snow. But for Royce, he forever strived to obtain such perfect architecture. If it was possible for the skies to craft flawless, endless objects, then his mind had to be equally limitless.


	5. Haze

“Is that _truly_ necessary?”

The meeting in the small room was Sybil’s idea and as they awaited for Grant and Asher, Royce was on his third cigarette. The lack of windows trapped the smoke inside and developed a thick haze within the space. She knew better by now; he loathed social interaction in person. Typing behind a monitor was more his pace and style. Instead of answering Sybil, Royce inhaled on his cigarette, relished the warm flavor sifting through her lungs, and exhaled a puff of smoke in her direction, as if to say, _Then don’t invite me next time._


	6. Flame

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be smoking?”

Royce peered up from his cupped hand shielding the tiny flame from the rain ravaging Cloudbank. The man looked him over, wearing a similar, pristine suit.

In truth, Royce was too young for many aspects of life: the advanced placement classes, the acceptance into university, and multiple job offers which overlooked the brightest of engineers. In defiance, he sucked on his cigarette.

The man chuckled. “How old are you, boy?”

Royce exhaled smoke. “Fourteen.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”

“Royce Bracket.”

The older man extended a hand. “Grant Kendrell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In game, Royce makes a comment about having known Grant for half of his life. Considering Royce's age, taking that comment seriously would mean he'd have been a teenager or younger when he first met Grant, which I find fascinating. Makes me wonder what happened to lead up to them meeting. And my headcanons for Royce involve him being extremely bright and throttling past his peers in academia, which might have garnered Grant's attention.


	7. Formal

It started back when his parents treated him more like a fashion mannequin than child, but the custom garments weren’t to blame for Royce’s demeanor; other children ran amuck during school breaks for amusement while he sat alone drawing structural designs in a journal. The formal suits garnered unwanted attention as he aged, ladies fawning over him at one of Sybil’s many garish functions, but Royce found little to bond with them over. By the end of the day, he was the same little boy, retreating to solitude within his designs and wearing an attire that reflected his mature mind.


	8. Companion

"Are you two... _together_?"

Royce didn't blink. Sybil almost choked on her white wine. He found no harm in the question, for they _had_ arrived together, though more like dragged out by Sybil, as Royce put it.

"It's not like that," Sybil corrected with a forced smile. "Royce is simply my companion for the night; we work together."

The other socialites nodded in awe and Royce never bothered with hiding the roll of his eyes. Why did shallow minds continue to believe Sybil and himself were lovers, simply because they were a man and woman sharing the same, stagnant air?


	9. Move

Royce insisted it couldn't be done. Not because it was impossible - nothing was impossible - but for the fact that switching locations of Cloudbank's most prominent skyscrapers would mar the once iconic horizons. Movies, paintings, and photographs depicted the separate towers and became the ideal image when people thought of the business district. To move it, solely on the premise of cheap politics, was not up to Royce's high standards. But the people had spoken and Royce’s hands manifested their wish. He bent and broke and never again did his heart skip a beat when another move or creation request surfaced. 


	10. Silver

Before Royce dipped his hands into the pool of engineering which held up Cloudbank’s foundation, metallic structures lined the streets. The silver hue glistened in the sun - a monotonous view formed by feeble minds unable to think past their comfort zone. Once hired, Royce introduced colors and modern materials, all ideas the citizens not once thought to vote on. No longer did the public lay their eyes upon the faded metals; a vibrant rainbow swept over Cloudbank and with it a new life instilled within the people. Royce never took credit. He simply stood back, watched, and returned to work. 


	11. Prepared

It turned into a ritual each time he met with a client. Royce preferred conversing behind his monitor, carefully thinking out his next words before typing. In person, he faltered, stopped mid-sentence, and derailed topics. In preparation, he allotted himself two hours of nothing. No technology, no music, no distractions. Just Royce pacing in a soundless room in hopes to still his thoughts and heart before he had to explain an intricate commission. In his mind, the quietness Royce showcased spoke more than his flow of words, but no one had yet to hear the unspoken truths in his silence.


	12. Knowledge

"Royce, do you have any suggestions?"

He could almost hear Sybil roll her eyes. "Asher, don't ask-"

"You want my opinion?" Royce interjected, staring out to the cityscape glowing on the night with a cigarette in hand. As silent as he had been the majority of the meeting, he still had been paying attention.

"You _are_ one of us," Asher said. "We work together and could use your knowledge."

Royce breathed out a chuckle. "Knowledge.... Yes, that would be practical. If only... I _knew_ of any candidates."

"...and?"

"And I think you're asking the wrong person."

Sybil giggled. "Told you."


	13. Denial

The entire city was in hysteria over the catastrophe sweeping over Cloudbank. Creatures swarmed the streets, ravaging everything until white pillars lined with red remained. Perfect geometrical structures, if Royce could say so himself. Sadly, no one else thought so. He overlooked Cloudbank from his studio while listening to Grant’s panicked voice on speaker.

“ You did this to yourself,” Royce interrupted, calmer than ever. “You should have known before you  _ asked  _ to use it. I can’t save you from your absence of logic, so don’t deny the fate you brought upon yourself.”

And he hung up and disconnected the phone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have multiple ideas on the conversations Royce and Grant could have had - if at all - while the Process was going wild in Cloudbank. I can't recall there being much insight on that in game. This is perhaps one of my darker thoughts on the matter.


	14. Wind

There was no wind. Well, there wasn’t  _ anything _ , for that matter. All that existed were the polls and those who voted. Royce sat behind the scenes, watching the numbers fluctuate as his cigarette dwindled down to a stub. He never cared for the outcome of the daily weather; he loved the battle of numbers racing about the screen and how together they amassed the sum of a hundred percent, regardless of the end result. When they stopped twitching, he swiped the screen away and returned to his work.  _ No windy day, _ he mused.  _ Three days in a row…. How fascinating…. _

 


	15. Order

Asher was saying something - he always was - though the exact words he chose were lost to Royce. With his arms crossed tight along his torso, Royce cautiously approached Asher’s desk.

“Something wrong, Royce?”

He never lifted his bright eyes away from the _chaos_ laid wreck to the surface. “Oh, yes. _Plenty_.”

“...what can I do to help?”

“Clearly nothing.”

By the time Grant returned with coffee for them, Royce had reorganized Asher’s entire desk setup to establish a firm order.

“See you haven’t changed, Royce,” Grant chuckled.

Royce peered over his shoulder. “I don’t understand how you live with him.”


	16. Thanks

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Sybil puffed up to twice her size while furrowing her brow. Royce couldn’t understand what the fuss was and opted for silence.

“Do you even know who that _was_ talking to you?” Royce blinked and Sybil heaved out a sigh. “The host of the gala! She complimented _your work_ and you couldn’t even thank her for _that_ , let alone for the invite?!”

He raised an eyebrow. “...was I supposed to?”

“Well, it would have been an improvement over insulting her choice in interior decorating.”

“Not insulting - critiquing.”

“Royce, I _highly_ doubt she saw the difference.”


	17. Look

When they first met, Sybil caught him alone and glared. “ _Stop_ it.”

Royce cocked his head. “Stop what?”

“You keep _looking_ at me. You’re just… ugh! It’s creeping me out. Quit it, okay?”

Then he blinked. “I was simply trying to figure out the physics behind your headpiece.”

“...you mean my _hat_.”

Royce hummed. “It’s exquisite.” He peered down to her. “Suits you well.”

Stuck between her initial flash of frustration and the joy swelling in her chest, Sybil dropped her mouth and stuttered. “Um… well, I-”

“You’re welcome,” Royce offered and walked by her to depart for the evening.


	18. Summer

For the record, Royce never voted for the blazing heat of summer to blast through Cloudbank. Surely some idiots plotted together to rig the polls and make everyone suffer. Inside his dark abode, the heat persisted and forced Royce to forsake his coat, roll up his sleeves, and loosen his tie. Even the Process worked slower than usual.

_Don’t you have central air?_ Grant asked in between their texts.

_i’d rather vote for a blizzard to circulate through my studio,_ Royce shot back.

_Royce, don’t even think about tampering with the votes._

_please i’ve already tried three times. didn’t work._


	19. Transformation

Few were awake when Cloudbank transformed after the polls. Maybe the handful of bakers, nighthawks, and restless artists witnessed the city change in those witching hours, but Royce always watched. From Fairview, he overlooked Cloudbank and pinpointed the sections where the Process took hold and manifested the wishes of the people. Little by little, structures moved and changed. It was one of the few times Royce ever smiled, albeit subtle and to himself. By the time the sun crept over the horizon and banished the blue hue basking in Cloudbank, Royce long abandoned his window and returned to his work.


	20. Tremble

He hated the nausea daring to bring him to his knees with each bout of social interaction. As a child, his parents’ guests giggled when he hid and called him adorable. As a budding college student, the girls teased him for being shy while he sought out solitude in manuals and blueprints. Royce was none of those things; he was forever threatened by crippling anxiety. His energy depleted with each passing second wasted upon another person wishing to “just talk” with him. Thus when he finally found comfort in his first cigarette, hands no longer trembling, he never stopped smoking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the hardest drabble to write, due to my own severe social anxiety. When you find that one thing that makes the dreadful, piercing, nauseous pain more manageable, you cling onto it like a damn security blanket. I imagine Royce is no different.


	21. Sunset

He escaped from the outing onto a lone balcony for solitude. While the attendees raised their glasses to toast to an imaginative cause, Royce lit up a cigarette and relished in the city’s ambience The sun sank in the distance, washing golden-pink hues over Cloudbank. Few cared to notice, too hung up on the evening's festivities inside. While he watched, Royce sympathized with Farrah; she created art - much like himself - daily to the point the world turned jaded from the beauty. It was the moment it was all taken away when people realized what they once possessed.

 _Typical_ , he thought.


	22. Mad

Some were of the opinion that Royce was forever apathetic, thus numb to the world around him - never blinking or flinching. The truth was he experienced a plethora of emotions and anyone paying attention to his designs would find his bottled sentiments. In moments of blind rage, Royce threw himself into his work and devised chaotic buildings, sometimes unsettling. The jagged edges of the asymmetrical constructs were either loved or hated by the citizens. Once the blueprints slipped through his fingers, Royce exhaled and closed his eyes. When his breaths steadied and the mad haze lifted, he returned to work. 


	23. Thousand

He had been proud of the design. Of all the obvious paths and outcomes, Royce veered away from the norm and his comfort zone in an attempt to hold the attention of the fickle populace. The avant garde building was unlike anything he ever created. He smiled over the implementation, only to frown when thousands upon thousands of citizens passed by it, never stuttering in their steps to marvel over the new addition to Cloudbank. _It doesn't matter,_ Royce thought, defeated. _Never did. Never will._ What was the point in changing when no one valued the essence of the word?


	24. Winter

“I hate this weather,” Sybil muttered through her scarf.

“Ah, but it’s so delightful!” Asher chimed back.

The two bickered on the snowy streets behind Royce and Grant, both discussing Camerata plans. The winter wind never bothered Royce, though before he could continue, Sybil shrilled out a shriek.

“ASHER KENDRELL, THAT WAS A DESIGNER SCARF!”

Both Royce and Grant peered over their shoulders. Asher now regretted throwing a snowball at Sybil’s face as she formed a bigger one in her gloved hands. She screamed and chased after Asher. Royce blinked and eyed Grant.

“You picked him,” he reminded his friend.


	25. Diamond

Separating the diamonds in the rough from the true gems to be selected for the Transistor was no easy task. Many competed for the populace’s attention. The polls revealed the popular option, but it did not always equate to the best option. The Camerata spent endless nights slaving over the text files documenting their potential candidates. Each one contributed their area of expertise to help bring about their end goal. Even Royce, ever the recluse, stepped in to point out the strengths and weaknesses the others failed to see; where they saw flesh and personalities, Royce saw equations and structures.


	26. Letters

Royce never cared for letters and words. They served as a blockade before the flow of his ideas. Every attempt to explain to a client or colleague of his next project crumbled. Letters and words choked Royce when all eyes shifted onto him, prodding for a response. He tripped over them, dropped them, and lost them. What use were they to him other than to torture his existence? Thus when Royce found solitude in his chaotic life, he savored it in silence. His heart slowed down, his hands ceased trembling, and his brain solved numerical formulas which never spoke back. 


	27. Outside

It wasn't that Royce didn't like being outside; in fact, he thoroughly enjoyed it. What was better than walking down the endless streets of Cloudbank while marveling over astounding architecture reaching for the stars? He might have holed up in his studio with every window veiled by thick blinds, but if he never ventured past his comfort zone, he would never see not only his work come to life, but also the efforts of other engineers. It meant bracing himself for the inevitable social interaction, though Royce drudged through it, if only to witness the man-made wonders of the metropolis. 


	28. Simple

Again she explained the supposed simplicity of her work coordinating events. Sybil spoke to great lengths of the preparation along with the upkeep throughout each one. Royce stared at her and blinked, but Sybil continued to unravel more layers to her career.

“See?” She smirked and raised her eyebrows. “It’s simple!”

“You and I have… _different_ views on that word.”

She scoffed. “Well, it’s easier than engineering.”

“For you, yes. I find… more _comfort_ in the absolute.”

“ _Why_ do I bother explaining anything to you?”

“Because your world lacks the concrete logic holding mine up,” he replied in a heartbeat.

 


	29. Promise

Over cups of coffee by window seats within quiet cafes, they whispered thoughts of Cloudbank. From those inklings of ideas, a promise was formed. Time tempered their intent until they donned black, white, and red. Even as they polished their suits for the Empty Set, the promise once made years ago echoed within the room. Royce had never been a fan of live performances, yet he was eager for the evening’s events. He eyed Grant and they silently assured each other that their actions would better the city. A promise between friends - for the people, for Cloudbank, for the Camerata. 


	30. Future

"What will you do when it’s all done?"

Royce looked away from the sunset and eyed Grant. "Done?"

"When the Camerata's done its job in securing Cloudbank's future," Grant added and met Royce's stare, "what will you do? Surely you have plans."

He had plans for architecture, but not for himself. The others formulated ideas for their futures as bright as the sun blinding him. The only brightness he had known was the dazzling lights of Cloudbank - the ones he helped design. Beyond that? Royce couldn’t fathom it. 

Royce inhaled smoke and exhaled an answer. "I plan to be happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a means for me to better understand Royce's character, because I was intimidated as hell by the idea of trying to do his character justice. This project has been great, not just in the fact that I've grown as a writer, but also because I've met so many awesome people who have been sticking around to read this collection. I've been touched by everyone's words and support. It pains me to bring Foundations to an end. But don't worry - there will be more drabble collections to come ;)
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who has read this.


End file.
